


Earning your keep

by WhyYesIamBlonde



Series: Slavery Universe [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Phil Coulson, Child Abuse, Collars, M/M, POV: Clint Barton, Sexual Slavery, Torture, Whipping, Whump!Clint, sub!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyYesIamBlonde/pseuds/WhyYesIamBlonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe were slavery is the norm in the United States. The circus purchases a group of boys from the orphanage and Clint soon learns exactly what is expected of him earn his keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Purchase

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings include child rape and other abuses. I am not nice to Clint at all. 
> 
> Don't own avengers but wish I did.

When he was ten, Clint was brought to the office of the orphanage with his brother and three other boys. There was a man there looking for a couple of good workers and did they want to move to a place full of animals, fancy outfits and food. He didn’t have to list the first two. At being told that they could earn up to two meals a day each of the boys jumped in excitement at their future jobs. The collars were locked in place, money was handed over and the five boys were taken to meet their new masters. Clint and another boy his age learned how to pick up manure and sweep up after the animals. If they did a good job, they were given a whole bowl of oatmeal in the morning and stew at night. They were very careful to keep out of sight of the customers and never complained about sore muscles or the smell. After a few hungry nights, the boys had learned what was expected of them and started to enjoy their new lives. 

The same could not be said for the older boys. They were sent to a different tent and not seen for over a week. When Clint finally found Barney, he ran up to him only to be pushed away.

“Barney, what’s wrong?” Clint said looking over the bruises sticking out of his collar and sleeves. 

“Nothing you would understand. We have to get out of here.” 

“But, were would we go? They have good food here and I get to sleep next to the pigs and stay warm.”

“Things will change,” said Barney as his wide eyes scanned the area. “When you come of age they will make you sleep somewhere else and it will become harder to earn the food.”

Clint didn’t understand but trusted his brother to keep him safe. They linked hands and started to run towards the woods. When they got about half a mile from the circus, the collars started buzzing. The shock that went through the two boys wasn’t that painful but it was alarming. Then the pain started to increase. Whenever the boys took a step away from the circus, the shock intensified. When they stepped back towards the tents, the shock lessoned. It didn’t take them long to return to their masters. The vet that traveled with the show refused to treat their burns, saying that he wasn’t allowed and that he had seen worse on those who didn’t learn as quickly. He did drop some ointment in Clint's pocket when no one was looking. 

Clint and Barney tried many different ways to remove the collars. They were too thick to be broken, the shocks started if there was any significant vibrations like those created by a saw, and the number code was twenty digits long. Ever after three years, the boys had yet to crack the combination. 

It was Clint’s thirteenth birthday. Barney gave him a rare hug and whispered how sorry he was before walking back to the large tent. Clint had still never been told exactly what happens to those in that tent but he could figure it out. The boys and girls who stayed in that section of the circus were always covered in bruises. They rarely laughed and some of their cries carried in the night. Clint was understandably scared when he walked up to the office.

The man behind the desk beamed when he saw the young boy enter the trailer. He put down the paper he had been working on and spread his beefy arms wide. “My boy. I hear it is a special day for you today!”

Clint just nodded his head. “Well, I know that you have become apprenticed to Trick Shot but I believe that you still belong to me. You will be allowed to continue working with him while the sun is up but when it is down, you will work in the tent.” The circus owner’s eye glinted down and he ran a hand through his long white beard, “I have a very special night planned for you. One of our customers was willing to spend good money making sure that you get introduced into the world properly. Now go find Mistress Petunelgro and she will get you ready.”

As slow as Clint tried to walk, it still only took him ten minutes before he found himself outside of the large tent. It was morning so there was no sound coming from inside. He took a deep breathe and forced himself to enter.

The tent was huge. There were walls set up and Clint could see beds set up in between each wall with barely enough room to walk around them. There were curtains blocking the view from some sections but for the most part the tent was empty of occupants. They had either gone on to their daylight chores or were enjoying a few hours earned by bringing in enough money the night before to be rewarded with free time. Clint jumped when a bony hand alighted on his shoulder.

“You will have time to look later,” The deep gruff voice of the older woman proclaimed. “I only have a few hours to prepare you for tonight and this customer is very specific about his needs. Follow me.”

At that Clint turned around and followed her. She was taller than he was which wasn’t saying much but she also exuded an air of authority that would have told him that she was in charge even if he had to pick her up out of a crowd. Her dress and shawl draped over her like they were sewn for someone a few sizes larger but the richness of the fabric told him that they were probably not the hand me downs that he and the other slaves had to wear. Her black hair was streaked with white and she had on enough make up to cover everyone in an entire show if she was willing to share. There were no laugh lines around her eyes but her mouth was punctuated with two very deep frown lines. 

“Alejandro!” she yelled. Soon a man of about thirty, wearing nothing but a set of shorts showing off his broad shoulder and scarred back showed up and kneeled in front of the woman. “You will take this puppy and clean him. Prepare him for his first night but do not plug him. His first experience belongs to Mr. Hammer.”

“Yes, Mistress Petunelgro,” was all he said before getting up and motioning for Clint to follow him. The young boy was taken to a special shower that was set up in one of the trailers and attached to the local city water supply. He was told to strip and stand in the middle of the room. Alejandro turned on the jets and he was soon being bombarded with water from all sides. The water was luke warm and the cloth that Alejandro used to scrub him with was very course. It was the first real cleaning that Clint had in years. He was more used to sponge baths or swimming in the small ponds and streams that the circus camped nearby. 

After his skin, hair and even ears were scrubbed, the older man took a nozzle from a very thin, long tube and ordered Clint to his knees. The boys eyes went wide but he did as ordered. When he didn't move fast enough, Alejandro pushed him down and straddled his back, facing away from his head. The thin nozzle was shoved in without any preparation and Clint screamed at the intrusion. The water was turn on and he felt his insides slowly fill until he swore he couldn’t hold anymore. Than the nozzle was taken out and he was commanded to empty himself. This happened two more times. 

Clint’s face was rewashed and he was given a rough towel. After he was dried he was handed a clean pair of jeans, sandals and a t-shirt. When he asked about underwear Alejandro just laughed and informed him that he didn’t need them anymore. That they would just get in the way. He was taken back to the big tent and told to take a nap on one of the empty beds. The young boy spent the next few hours staring at the top of the tent playing with the combination lock of his collar. He never got the courage to ask about dinner.

It was dark before the curtain to his section of the tent was pushed aside. The man that walked in was only two inches taller than the teenager and dressed in a well-tailored suit. His brown hair was heavily salted with white and the smile did not reach his eyes. This could only have been the Mr. Hammer that he was told about. Clint was instantly afraid of this man.

“Undress me,” The man said in an English accent. Clint got off the bed and helped the man out of his jacket before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He placed everything on a hanger that the man handed him and hung it on the top edge of one of the walls. Before he could help the older man off with his pants he was told to strip. Clint took his time pulling off his shirt and pants. He wanted to avoid what was coming but inadvertently gave the older man a show of his muscles instead. 

Mr. Hammer took a deep breath and told Clint to kneel at his feet. He opened his pants and pushed both them and his briefs down in one motion. He put his hand on the back of Clint’s head and pulled him toward his cock. It was already growing and Clint could smell a sour musk coming from the older man. When he was told to suck it, the teenager opened his mouth and allowed the cock to brush past his lips and onto his tongue. 

“Have you never done this before?” asked the man as he growled down at the boy. Clint shook his head slightly making the older man smile. “Looks like I am getting my moneys worth. Now take in just the head and suck it.”

Clint did what he was told. He was talked through sucking on just the head and then leaning forward to take it as far into his mouth as he could without chocking. He leaned his head a bit to the side so that the other man could brush against the inside of his cheek instead of the back of his throat. When the man tried to force himself down his throat Clint had to push himself off and struggled to keep from throwing up. He managed to swallow any bile that had come up but the older man was not angry at the sudden stop in his play. If anything, he looked amused.

“My son did the same thing the first time I taught him how to please my investors. He is weak like you. Can’t handle simple tasks. Since this is beyond you, get on the bed. I want your ass up.

Shaking, Clint crawled onto the bed. He put his head down on the pillow and pulled his arms and legs up underneath himself. He allowed some tears to fall as Mr. Hammer starting stroking his back and caressing his ass. The boy jumped a little as cold, wet fingers started to message his hole. A single finger was pushed in and the older man told Clint to relax. He tried. He truly did but it hurt so much. The older man added another finger and then a third. He scissored the fingers gently but still too quickly for the boy to get used to the feeling. When the fingers disappeared, Clint took in a deep breathe and prepared himself. The boy bit his lip to keep from crying out as the burn turned into knives from the older man’s hurry to enter him. He felt himself loosen as his blood joined the oil and reduced the friction. Tears fell down his face and he found himself leaning forward to try to get away from the pain.

“None of that now,” Mr. Hammer yelled as he smacked Clint hard across his back. “and stop biting your lip. I want to hear the noises you make.”

Clint cried. He screamed and sobbed. The man continued at a steady pace, occasionally bringing his hand down hard onto the boy's back. He grabbed Clint's hips hard enough to bruise and started to lose control of his thrusts. His hand moved and grabbed the boy’s collar, pulling him up and back as he cried out with his own orgasm. Clint's hands came up to his collar but he was unable to loosen the hold enough to allow him to breathe. The boy passed out with the old man still jerking inside of him.

Clint woke up to a bucket of water being thrown on top of him. Mistress Petunelgro put the bucket on the floor and demanded that Clint stand. The boy shook and grimaced at the pain but he managed to move his legs and stand in front of the bed. At her command he turned around and bent over so that she could examine him. When she was satisfied that the bleeding had stopped she sent him with the bucket back to the shower to clean up and get ready for his next customer while Alejandro changed the sheets on his bed.


	2. The offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going off site to meet a John usually meant trouble. Usually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very tame chapter. Pity more women didn't go to brothels.

Life in the circus became routine. Wake up at dawn and help clean up after the animals. Eat breakfast. Spend a few hours at the range before the 1 o’clock show. If he did well, than he was allowed a nap before dinner. If he missed the center of the bullseye by even a little bit, he was punished. Sometimes it was a couple of extra hours working in the tent. Sometimes it was a whipping. One time he was chained to a buoy in the middle of a pond the circus had set up next to. Duquesne and Trick Shot stood at the shore making sure that he didn’t touch the buoy but treading water for the two hours he was out there. Then it was dinner and his performance at the evening show. Any punishment he earned at that time was pushed forward until the next day so that he could clean himself off and get to his other job. 

Clint had learned a few tricks. He saved himself a lot of pain by preparing himself with a butt plug ahead of time. The customers usually liked the fact that he was already opened for them. He learned how to go down on a guy and get him to finish quickly so that he could make his nightly quota. He took his times with the female clients (even if it meant that he may not get to eat the next day) for his own enjoyment. They were few and far between anyways. He soon learned that he loved the way a woman squirmed and yelled out on his tongue. As he grew older he also learned that even the men could be quit enjoyable if he played his cards right. He was working in the tent for over two years before he had a John willing to work his prostrate but once it happened, the teen figured out what his movements needed to be in order to get others to rub the same area. 

Clint was usually allowed to fall asleep before midnight but occasionally he had a customer who would want a whole night with him. These were the ones that he dreaded. If they stayed in the tent he knew that he would simply have to get the customer off a few times and cuddle, but if they took him off site, he knew that he would not be able to practice the next morning. A few times he needed stitches and once his nose was broken. The enemas sucked and the water sports disgusted him but the threat of being pulled from a show, having his bow taken away was enough to keep him in line. 

Tonight was one of those nights. He was told that someone had purchased him for the evening and that they would be meeting offsite. Clint resigned himself to a hard night as he prepared his body. By now it didn’t take him long to open himself up or to shave off any excess hair. He decided to leave the plug at home, off site customers usually liked to open him themselves. He pulled on his jean shorts and a white shirt and went to the car that was waiting for him.

Clint was happy to see that he was meeting the John at rather nice hotel. Private houses usually meant a dungeon with a lot of screaming but rented areas meant that sound was an issue and rarely had hooks on the ceiling. He walked up to the third floor and his guard knocked on the door. A man in his early thirties opened the door. His brown suit was perfectly tailored. He welcomed them inside and just watched as the guard locked a small box to the foot of the bed. He explained to the suit how it transmitted the code that kept the slave from running away. Clint had been followed by that stupid box since his first escape from an offsite visit. They knew that the consequential beating had not been enough to deter future attempts. Then the guard accepted the first installment of the night's payment and left.

“So, what are you into” Clint asked as he got down on his knees and smirked up at his customer. He placed his hands behind his back and looked through his eyelashes. “You going to be my daddy tonight?”

“How about we eat first?” The john motioned to a table with two plates set up. When he lifted the lids, Clint saw steak, potatoes and green beans. It had been a really long time since he had to cut his food and his eyes lit up at the sight of it. Usually he simply ate the stew made out of whatever road kill the circus had passed along the road. He forced himself to walk slowly to the table and sit down. 

“So, ah... What is this going to cost me?” Clint asked before picking up a knife.

“You will give me your full attention and not interrupt until the food is gone.” The suit said with a calm smile on his face. When Clint nodded and picked up his fork the older man placed a black folder on the table. There was a picture of a bird embossed on the cover. Clint's eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut.

“My name is Agent Coulson and I am with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division or SHIELD. We have seen your work and would like to offer you a job.”

Clint raised his right eyebrow at that. He put down his fork and pushed his plate away even though he only had one bite. He huffed out a breathe and smirked at the other man. “Slaves don't get offered jobs. We do what we are told or get punished. And I think I prefer my current pimp over anything else you have to offer.”

“I’m not looking for a prostitute. I can find that in any auction across the country. I’m talking about your aim. Not only is your show impressive but we have reason to believe that you are responsible for taking out some undesirables before our own agents could handle them.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Clint looked at Agent Coulson and narrowed his eyes.

“Does this help?” The agent opened the folder. One side was full of paperwork but the other held pictures. Pictures of Clint aiming a rifle or his bow. Pictures of men bleeding out in the streets with holes through their left eyes. Pictures of the archer meeting up with a circus guard who was holding his small black box. Pictures of other men with arrows through their necks and one picture of a woman with an arrow through each eye. 

Clint shrugged his shoulders and looked away from the other man. The assassinations earned him a week out of the big tent for each successful hit. The hits were almost always mob bosses or cheating husbands so he had no qualms about the job. One time he was told to take out a business rival but when he got the playboy in his sites he refused the job. There was a picture of that in the pile as well. Along with a picture one of his Johns took when he was strapped to the bed for a week after a severe beating. The circus was none too happy to return Stane’s money.

“We are looking into buying you from the circus but we don’t care for forcing slaves to do our bidding. If you want us to continue with our negotiations and purchase you, we will. If you refuse a mark for good reason you will not be punished. If you prefer your current situation, let us know so that we can stop wasting our time.” Agent Coulson’s voice was soft and his smile was very calm. He had obviously given this speech many times over the years. He took out the paperwork and handed it Clint.

“Mr. Barton,” Coulson got a startled look from the archer at the use of his last name. He had not heard it in almost ten years. “We are offering you a chance to work for an organization that promotes world peace. To use the skills that you enjoy using. You are the best marksman my agency has ever seen.”

Clint looked down at the paper in his hands. The letters on the page meant nothing to him. He put them down, looked up at the suit and simply nodded. Agent Coulson took this as a good sign. He had the archer sign his name in a few spots of the paperwork, gathered his folder back together and left. Clint took that as a good sign and ate not only his plate but the food that the agent left as well.

Clint didn’t think he would be able to sleep but the bed was comfortable and he was exhausted. He found himself drifting off to dreams about arrows and targets. The next day his bodyguard didn’t even acknowledge the missing John. He simply took the envelope with the remaining money due from the side table and unlocked the black box from the bed leg so that he and his charge could return to help tear down the circus before they traveled to their next destination.


	3. New Owner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson takes his new purchase for SHIELD back to base. Is this the perfect time for Clint to run away?

Two months went by before Clint was called to the office. He entered the trailer with his eyes kept to the floor and kneeled down on the spot of carpet in front of the desk like he had been trained. He was so surprised that he looked up when he heard Agent Coulson’s voice. “Take that collar off of him.” 

“Trust me,” the circus manager said. “He will rabbit away the second he gets the chance.”

“We’ll see,” is all that the agent says until the collar is taken off. Clint rubs his neck for a while. The scars from the shocks and various people pulling on his collar will be there for life, continuing to mark him as a slave. It felt weird to feel the air on his skin. He actually wasn’t sure if he liked this new found freedom or not. That was the thought that scared him the most.

Coulson grabbed his arm and pulled him to get him to stand up. The agent didn’t let go as he led the archer outside and towards a cadillac parked close to the trailer. Clint took that moment to shrug off the hand and started to run. He was in shock as he tripped over the other man’s foot and found himself face down in the dirt. Agent Coulson was over him with one arm pushing down on his throat and a gun pushing into his temples.

“Don’t make me waste government money,” the suit said in a calm, almost monotonous tone. “I really don’t like the paperwork it creates.”

Clint was pulled up and shoved into the trunk of the car. Coulson took out his suitcase before slamming the door closed. The emergency release had been disabled. He started counting the many turns that the car took but soon realized that he really didn’t care enough to get back to the circus. The motion of the car eventually lulled him to sleep. 

The lack of movement woke up the archer. He heard the other man get out of the car and it was a few minutes before there were returning footsteps. He heard a door open and close and then the footsteps came around the back of the vehicle. The trunk opened and Clint was ready. He jumped up and out of the Cadillac only to be thrown back by the force of the suitcase being thrown into him. His head hit the edge of the open trunk and he took a second to shake out the stars that were blocking his view. The agent took that moment to grab the slave’s hands and cuff them behind his back. Then he dragged the stunned man into one of the rooms at the motel. 

Clint hit his head again when he was thrown onto the floor. It was not hard enough to cause a concussion but it still hurt nonetheless. He flipped back on his feet with ease and tackled the agent. At least he tried to tackle the agent. He found himself on the floor again with Coulson’s elbow on his neck and his arms being painfully pulled up.

“Didn’t know you liked it rough,” Clint growled through clenched teeth.

“I’m going to get up. If you try to run again I will break your leg. This is why I asked you if you wanted to be bought. If you want me to turn around and hand you back to that traveling brothel let me know. Otherwise, sit on that bed for a minute.”

Clint got up slowly with Coulson and sat on the far bed as directed. The agent must have been in here earlier because there was a chain wrapped around the bed that he attached to the hand cuffs. Coulson paused for a moment and then took out a knife. He used it to cut off Clint’s shirt. Then he stripped Clint of his pants and sandals so the man was completely naked. 

The archer got a knowing smirk on his face. “So, you want me on my back or knees?” 

Coulson didn’t answer. He simply went through the clothes. He found a piece of wire threaded through the bottom of the t-shirt. There were stronger wires threaded through the belt loops of the jeans and a foot long string with loops on either end was pulled out of a pocket. After placing everything on the desk, he looked at his charge and sighed. “Were you going to kill me or just run away?”

Clint was glaring at the agent. “I have no reason to kill you.”

“Even if it means that I would hunt you down and retrieve you?”

“Is everyone at your organization as competent as you?” Clint asked. He was actually starting to get really curious about his new job. He’s offered his body three times now and it doesn’t seem that the other man is that interested in taking him up on it. If they truly only wanted him for his other skills, than maybe this could be a job he enjoyed.

Coulson chuckled a bit. “They are supposed to be and that didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m thinking it no longer matters.” Clint turned so that he was laying down with his back to the door and got comfortable. Coulson paused for a moment but then went and retrieved his luggage. When he came back he took his time getting ready for bed. The only time he came near the other man was when he made him move enough to pull the blanket out from under the chains and throw it on top of him. They both settled into an uneasy night.

The next morning Coulson awoke with a start to the sound of the chains rattling. He yanked the gun out from under his pillow and pointed it toward the noise. Clint was sitting up in the bed while he carefully wrapped the now loose chains into a neat pile. The handcuffs were on the desk across the room. 

“Hope you don’t mind but I could no long stand the metal digging into me.”

“Well,” replied the agent. “That answers that question” 

Clint chuckled a bit and then looked away. “Um. I was wondering if I could ride up front today. Yesterdays ride was nice and all but a bit lacking in the scenery.”

“What changed?”

“Woke up tired is all.” Clint didn't explain any further but there wasn’t any real need to either. He was given clean clothes from the agents suitcase that fit him too well to have been bought for Coulson. The black shirt was a turtleneck that covered the scars from the collar. Clint looked at himself in the mirror and felt human for the first time in a long while. 

The rest of the ride to New York was uneventful. Clint didn't ask any questions but Coulson let him know what to expect anyways. He was going to be sent to the training department for a few months. When the agent asked him how well he could read the archer just grunted.

“It’s against the law to keep kids from school. Even owned ones.” Coulson said frowning.

“Yep ‘cause every slave owner is a law abiding citizen.” was his answer. 

Coulson was silent a moment before saying, “According to our records, you should have at least a fourth grade education.”

“Hard to get to class with broken bones.”

“Broken...”

Clint just laughed at Coulson’s shock and refused to speak any further about his education or his past. The agent made a mental note to yell at his researchers for not looking further into the archer’s childhood.

When the two finally got to their destination, Clint was not surprised to see them park behind a simple office building that blended in with every other building on the street. The initial ID scan was normal as well. He was a bit shocked when Coulson had to have his retina’s scanned for the elevator to allow him access to the second floor. Before they left the elevator, the older man looked at Clint and said, “Don’t tell anyone you’re a slave. We don’t usually have to purchase our agents and it really is no one elses business.”

Clint honestly didn't know what to think of that. He nodded his head and then followed Coulson down the corridor to one of the conference rooms. There were seven other people sitting around the long table. All of them were wearing the same black outfits with the SHIELD symbol over their left chest. Coulson motioned for Clint to have a seat and walked up to the Asian man sitting at the end of the table. 

“Got another one for you, Woo,” Coulson said, giving the man a smile and shaking his hand. “Bit rough around the edges and is going to need to get his GED but you’ve dealt with that before. Let me know what room he gets assigned so I can send up his luggage.”

Clint smiled to himself. He had no possessions. He wasn’t even allowed to keep his bow even though he had made it himself. Coulson must have been honest about keeping his ownership status a secret.

“Great. You always give me the oddest assignments. What this time? This guy a circus clown or something?” Woo smiled back at Coulson.

“Circus archer actually. And I bet you won’t be able to find a better marksman.”

“Usual terms?” Asked Agent Woo.

“Definitely,” Coulson said before leaving the room.

The morning was spent filling out paperwork. He didn't know his social security number so he just left that blank. He could read enough that he was able to tell where to print his name and were to do the swirly motions that someone told him was his signature. He listened to Agent Woo describe what was on each page so he could pretend he understood what he was reading. He didn’t have any questions like the six other recruits but his illiteracy wasn’t an issue so he started to relax as the day went on. 

During lunch the new recruits were told to sit together. They talked a little about their lives. Clint volunteered that he was raised in the circus since the subject had already come up. The others didn’t need to know that his parents weren’t carnie folk. The others asked questions about the shows and animals but the brothel tent was never mentioned. Maybe the others didn’t even know there was such a tent at the edge of every circus or maybe they were being polite. Didn’t matter. Clint felt himself liking the others already.

Elena Draggurd quickly became his favorite. She grew up in Pittsburgh, being the daughter of a steelworker and a waitress. She talked about how she was the first in her family to go to college but when the bills started to overwhelm her, she joined the Army. She was able to finish her psychology degree and became an information specialist. She seemed to have a talent for seeing what was not actually in print so SHIELD offered her a job when her contract with the army was finished. 

Clint felt his ears twitch. He glanced over and saw that Coulson was sitting next to Woo. The two were talking quietly but they occasionally stole a look towards the archer letting him know that he was correct. They were talking about him. 

Clint was relieved when lunch was over and everyone was taken to the range. He was the last to have his skills assessed. He picked up the rifle that was handed to him and shot at the target. It came back with only one hole in the dead center of the bulls-eye but surveillance footage showed that each bullet had hit the same spot. Woo leaned over to Coulson and whispered something about having his payment by the end of the day.

After a dinner, the team was taken to their quarters. The rooms were small with just enough room to walk between the bed and dresser but they were private and the mattress was far more comfortable than anything Clint had ever experienced before. There was a communal shower area down the hall. The slave was surprised to see that there were clothes that were sized for him already in the dresser drawers and a toiletries kit on top. Each shirt he pulled out was standard issue for SHIELD except that their collars seemed a bit higher than what he had witnessed on the others. He smiled and started to pull the sleeves off a couple of the shirts.

Clint couldn’t sleep the first night so he spent the time practicing his stealth. The air vents were huge. Now why would a secret organization bother to build vents that not only a muscular man could fit through but also support his weight? Which of the bad guys paid the contractors extra for this? He decided to do something about it when he had the ability without getting himself blocked. 

He found ways to get to the cafeteria, the range and the gym fairly quickly. Then he decided to wander around the offices. It was past midnight but there were still a couple of lights on. In one such office he found Coulson typing away at a computer. Clint found himself watching the other man work.

His handwriting was smooth and he actually switched from his right hand to his left while writing so that he could also put some information into the computer. The coffee at his desk must have gotten cold because the agent made a face whenever he absent mindedly picked it up and took a sip. Coulson sighed at one point and stretched with a yawn. He put the last file in the out box and stood up. He sniffed the air for a moment and then looked right into the vent. 

Clint panicked and backed up quickly. He was quiet but he still felt like he heard banging from his knees every time he put one down. He managed to get down to his room without getting lost and flipped into his bed. He stood up to put the vent back when he heard his door open. 

“Barton,” said Coulson as he let himself into the room.

“Yes, sir?” Clint tried to act casual but was still panicking a little.

“Tomorrow I am going to get you a new shampoo. That one smells too strongly of coconut.” Then the agent just left and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This chapter was annoying. Lost most of it but I think the rewrite is better so it turned out for the best.
> 
> Clint is just over 18


	4. Training and first mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint get's to know other agents and starts to learn everything he needs to know to be a top notch SHIELD agent. He also finally gets his first mission. Now, can he do well enough to get over his slave status?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the least angsty chapter of the entire story.
> 
> I know nothing about archery so forgive any glaring mistakes and just correct me in the comments, please.

It took a few months but Clint was slowly getting used to his new home. He hated the private tutor that SHIELD got him but he was actually proud of himself the first time he was able to read a book without help. He was looking forward to reading one without pictures. 

The afternoons were taken up by various training exercises. Clint had learned how to fight dirty a long time ago but the grace and power that went with learning actual martial arts exhilarated him. He wasn’t good enough to throw the teacher quite yet but the other trainees began to avoid getting paired up with him. All except Elena. She told the teacher that sparring with people as good as her was not going to help so she volunteered to be his permanent partner during the initial training. She never quite got up to his level but she did get good enough that Clint kissed the mat a few times. 

“So, Clint. What’s up with the turtle necks? You get a lot of hickeys or something?” Elena asked during a quick break from SHIELD. They had decided to ditch the office and went out for shakes after agreeing that it was in no ways a date. She had her eye on a guy in the R&D division and Clint still wasn’t completely comfortable with anyone else seeing his scars.

“Well, you know me. New girl in my bed every night.”

“No. I don't see you with just the women if you know what I mean.” She smiled at him over her strawberry shake.

Clint laughed. “Jealous? Want to see what the Clint Barton experience is really like?”

“No way,” she giggled back. “I’m more of the tall geeky type kind of girl. Now, if you looked a bit more like Mr. Fantastic we would have a deal.”

“Hey. I’m not made of rubber but I do have a part of me that changes size.” That earned him a groan and she threw her napkin at him. The topic was then nicely avoided and she seemed to catch on that he didn’t want her to bring it up again. SHIELD didn’t like to hire agents with distinguishing marks but with the job came certain scars that kept the agency from making it policy. 

When they got back to work, they found themselves back down in the range. Woo handed the archer a new bow. It wasn’t like any he had tried before. There were pulleys on it for one. Clint took a few minutes playing with it before he selected an arrow and aimed it towards the furthest target. It landed on the left side of the bulls-eye. Clint huffed a bit. He forced himself to not cut his arm like he had been taught for missing and then tried again. This time the arrow was dead center.

“Too light. If you want the arrow to go further than that, I need one with a heavier pull,” Clint told Woo.

The handler just looked at him before saying, “If we need it to go further you may be better off with a rifle but I will let R&D know.”

Clint spent the rest of the afternoon shooting arrows around the range. He had talked the range master into adding moving and pop-up targets a few weeks ago so he used them to get the feel for his new bow. Inhale, pull, exhale, release. The motions overcame him. He heard someone call his name but he ignored it until the last arrow found its target.

“Clint!” Elena said. “Time for chow. Are you coming or what?”

“Sure,” he responded while gathering the arrows. “I’m coming”

She waited patiently while he cleaned his bow and put it away. They walked together to the cafeteria but were intercepted by Woo. He handed a file to Clint saying, “Agent, I need you to report to conference room three immediately. Something came up with could use your expertise.”

Clint looked at Elena and shrugged in apology. He took the file and hurried to the conference room. This was going to be his first mission! There he met Agent Whight and was told that he was going to be the handler on this mission. The man was taller than Clint but only by an inch. He looked like he cared more about putting on muscle than being elegant in a fight. There were four other agents in the meeting. It was going to be part reconnaissance, part assassination. They needed Agent Young to seduce and gather information from a mid level mob manager while Specialist Agent Barton was told that he needed to take out the manager’s boss to push an agenda that SHIELD wanted. The other three were back up. 

The agents spent the next few hours going over the specs of the party that they were infiltrating and the surrounding landscape. They learned faces, names and basic facts for each of the expected party guests. Clint didn’t bother to actually read the file but he had no problem putting the faces and information to memory during the meeting. There was a tree overhanging a rather tall wall that would make for a perfect perch. 

Everyone left and went to their rooms early. They were supposed to sleep while they could. Clint didn't know about the others but he was too nervous to get more than a couple hours of rest. He showed up at the jet a few minutes before 04:00 with his bow and paced a bit while he waited for the others to arrive. When they were settling in he noticed that there was no co-pilot assigned for this flight. He asked if he could sit up front and his request was permitted. Clint got antsy. He kept asking the pilot about every little thing in the cockpit. His hands itched to touch the controls in front of him. The pilot just chuckled to himself and kept himself entertained by teaching Clint the basics of aviation.

The plane landed in a little city called Erie, Pennsylvania. The tallest building had to have been only ten stories high. It was the middle point to the Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Buffalo area and was known as a summer vacation spot for the local mob. They were driven to a safe house that was only a few miles away from a mansion on the edge of town called the Aviators club. Young was busy putting on her cocktail dress complete with diamond jewelry and hidden weapons. Clint was taken out and dropped off in the middle of the woods. He had no problem finding the wall and scaling it. He found a good spot in the tree and settled into his nest. He spent the next couple of hours watching various people stroll in and out of the clubhouse or play bocce in the backyard. The suits and dresses these people wore would probably set Clint back a years salary if he earned one. 

Young arrived just late enough to be fashionable but early enough to get herself ensconced in the party. Clint could see her flirting through the windows. It didn’t seem to take her long to attract her target. He was fit, young for a boss and competent but she was beautiful and knew enough to charm him away from the waitress that truly did not seem to want his affections. They chatted for a bit and then he took her up to a private room. Clint lost contact with her at that point but he knew from his ear piece that he fell asleep quickly after sex and she was able to hack into his phone and make a copy of a thumb drive he had in his pocket as well as implant a sub-dermal tracker on his back. When he woke up, she acted like a well satisfied mistress and noticed nothing amiss.

Whight gave Clint the go ahead at that point to search for his target. The trouble was, the mob boss was currently standing next to a kid. He was in the yard talking to him like the boy had done something wrong. There was no shouting or hitting but the boy was clearly being chastised. Clint told his handler to wait for a few minutes.

“No Barton. Your orders are to take out the target now!”

“Just give the kid a minute. I’m sure the talk is almost over. Do you really want an eight year old to witness this?” Clint was getting mad. The kid did not need the nightmares that watching what looked like his father die would create.

“Specialist Barton, take the shot.” Whight yelled into the com.

“Screw you! I need a second,” the assassin yelled back.

“Asset Barton, you do as your told!”

The com went silent. No one knew of his asset status. It was supposed to be confidential. Clint breathed deeply for a few minutes. During this time the boy returned to the building with his head hung low. The mob boss seemed to let out a large sigh and pulled a cigar from his pocket. He didn’t have time to light it. The arrow pierced his neck at the bottom of his skull. Instantly killing him. Clint quickly left his nest and ran to the safe house. He was not followed.

“What the hell was that!” Whight screamed at the archer as he entered the building.

“A perfect shot,” Clint shot back.

“No. That was you not following explicit orders. You don’t get to say when you can and can’t listen to me. You do as your told or did you forget what you are!”

The rest of the group tensed. They looked everywhere but at the fight in front of them. Clint glared at his handler. He had felt so free at SHIELD that he was actually beginning to wonder if he was truly a slave anymore. This was just a reminder than he was nothing. He owned nothing, not even his own opinion. The training from his teenage years kicked in. He lowered his head and fell to his knees for his punishment. The surprised gasps from a couple of the other agents didn’t alleviate his shame. Whight just continued to glare down at him.

“Stay there until we leave,” the handler said and barked at the others to clean out the safe house and get ready for extraction. It took three hours for the van to arrive but Clint didn’t leave his position. He just stared down at the carpet imagining a thousand places his arrows could enter Whight without killing him. When he was allowed to stand, he took a few minutes to wake up his feet and followed the rest at the back. He refused to continue to bow his head but couldn't make himself look anyone in the eye.

The trip back to New York was silent and everyone filed into the debriefing room and sat down. Before Whight could say a word Coulson entered and calmly asked the handler to meet him outside for a moment. A few minutes later Coulson returned alone. He conducted the debrief quickly. In the end, when he asked if there were any questions someone mentioned Agent Whights disappearance.

“I’m sorry but Mr. Whight will no longer be your handler. There was an urgent need for his skills in our Alaskan base. You will all be reassigned within the week. Now, before you leave you were all told confidential information about a fellow agent this mission. I need not remind you that this information is not sharable and will not be entering into SHIELD's rumor mill. Now you are all dismissed.”

Coulson watched everyone go. He was not surprised when Clint choose to stay back. 

“Is there something that I can help you with agent?” Coulson said calmly.

“If my status is so secret how come Whight knew about it?” Clint’s voice and facial expression were completely void of emotions. 

“His clearance was high enough and there is a chance that you could get made by a previous client so your status was listed in your file. He was supposed to know that SHIELD policy is to treat assets the same as agents. That is why you are to be called such. Unfortunately, he was pretty loud while he was being walked to get his things for his new assignment so the cat is out of the bag. You will let me know if this changes things.” Coulson said frowning throughout the whole discussion.

“And you’ll do what? Make the mean bully stop teasing me? I’m not a snitch. It’s not like there are a lot of options for me anyways. I have handled my ‘status’,” Clint said that word like he wanted to spit, “for years. Now, if I haven’t earned a punishment I would like permission to leave, Master!” Clint stood up at attention and focused on the wall. He completely missed the older man blink at the last word. Coulson simply stated, “I’m not your master but granted.” 

Clint stormed out of the room. He headed straight to the range. He needed something to destroy. He signed out the loudest gun that SHIELD had and proceeded to unload clip after clip until the target he chose was nothing more than confetti. There were other agents practicing at the range but Clint didn’t see them. He only saw the target and the gun. When he was done, he cleaned it and handed it back to the arms master to inspect and put away. 

The archer then proceeded to sign out his bow.The arms master made him put on his brace and glove before he would be handed any arrows. Clint turned on the moving targets and spent the next few hours lost in the stretch and release of the bowstring. He was able to clear his mind of the perfect yet complete fuck up the last mission had turned into. The fuck up that was his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm from Erie and everyone there knows that the mob spends their summers playing bocce at the various clubs. Supposedly an ex boyfriend of mine was taught by a mobsters son. I highly doubt his story but it a good one to listen to.
> 
> It is a really fun game if you ever want to play it.


	5. Nightmares and sparring lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory bubbles up as a nightmare so Clint goes to the gym to work off the extra energy.

_Clint was having a great week. His aim was perfect so all Trick Shot and Duquesne could do was smack him on the back of his head and tell him not to get cocky. He hadn’t missed a meal in almost a week. To top everything else, he was almost looking forward to his work in the brothel tent tonight. The acrobats had gotten new uniforms and he spent a couple of hours watching the twins, Anna and Michael, go through their routines in them. Clint had a dream during his earlier nap that he got to be sandwiched between them and had woken up very hard. He knew not to masturbate. The last time he was caught gave him five lashes but he also knew that at least one of his customers tonight would give him the release he needed. He hummed a tune while he walked into the tent._

_He was grabbed by his collar and yanked to the side. Clint yelped out in surprise and grabbed the other persons hands instinctively. “That’s enough, Austin.” said Mistress Petunelgro. The slave hated to hear that voice. It was never a good thing when the Madame of the brothel paid attention to you. Austin let Clint go and kneeled down on the ground._

_“I’ve heard that you haven’t been treating your clients with respect.” Clint must have looked confused because she gave out a dramatic sigh. “I know. That is our fault. You have never been properly trained. You are what, fifteen now? For two years you have worked under me yet you still do not kneel. This will change. Austin here will be your teacher. You do as he says or you will see me again.” With that, she grabbed some of the extra fabric of her huge dress and spun away._

_Austin stood up and loomed above his new charge. “This is going to be fun. Now kneel!”_

_Clint was too smart not to listen. He kneeled and looked up at his newest keeper expectantly. Austin smirked and then punched the young man in the head. Clint grabbed the side of his face as stars danced in his eyes. “And what made you think that you could look anyone in the eye? You look down. Our feet are the only things that you deserve to see. Unless a client tells you otherwise, you should never see their face. That is lesson one.”_

_Austin grabbed the hand that was on the slave’s cheek and wrenched it behind his back. “Lesson two will be about positions and how you are NOT allowed to alter from them.”_

Clint woke up with a start. His body was shaking. He was in a bit of a shock to find that he had moved and kneeled next to his bed during the dream. He knew the dangers of sleep walking while on a mission. This could not happen again.

It was the middle of the night but he was done sleeping for a while. He got up, dressed in a pair of sweats and a turtleneck that he had ripped the sleeves out of. He went to the gym via the vents to work off some energy. He was not surprised to find that he was not alone. It wasn’t uncommon for SHIELD agents to get nightmares. It also was not that unusual to see handlers killing themselves over a workout after losing an agent in the field. It was odd to see Coulson there. The suit was gone and replaced with the agencies sweats and t-shirt. He feet were bare and he was practicing some kicks on a punching bag. Clint watched him for a while. It dawned on him that he liked watching this man work. 

After a few minutes the older man took a break to stretch and get him water. He waved a hand in the air without looking up and said, “I don’t mind the audience but I could use a sparring partner if you want to come down.”

Clint jumped a bit in shock. He opened the vent and dropped down onto a mat. “How did you know I was there, sir?”

“It’s my job. Now, how good are you at sparring?”

“Best in my class, not good enough to drop the teacher more then once a day.” Clint tried not to sound too cocky but he was having trouble finding people to practice with. The older agents didn’t like his attitude and the newer ones just weren’t up to his level.

“Okay. I’ll see for myself then.” Coulson walked into the sparring area and bounced on his feet. It was odd to see him out of a suit and looking so comfortable. That constant disarming smile was gone was well. Clint didn’t know what to make of it so he just walked up to the older man tried to sweep his legs out from under him. It didn’t work. He wasn’t completely sure what happened next but he found himself with his back to the mat and the other man about three feet away.

“Rooky mistake. Don’t try that if the person is watching you.” Coulson said calmly. Clint got up and came at him again. This time he tried a punch which was easily blocked. They did some kicks, punches and jabs but each man was able to block or dodge each hit. Finally Coulson was able to drop the archer again.

“Okay,” Coulson said,barely breathing heavy. “Looks like you have been paying attention in class. Mind if I show you some stuff they don't teach?”

Like he would ever say no. He was honestly honored that this other man would take the time to show him the new moves. Clint caught on quickly and Coulson allowed himself to be dropped to the mat a few times to let the younger man practice. After the lesson, they both stretched some more and went to find more water.

“You will be meeting your new handler tomorrow.” Coulson said casually.

“Oh?,” Clint tried not to look disappointed. He was starting to hope that Coulson would become his handler.

“Yeah. She’s good but a little green. Go easy on her okay?”

“Sure.” Clint was beginning to realize that he wanted to impress the other man. Putting up with a new handler was a simple request. Maybe he would get to work with this man someday. “You want to go see if the cafeteria is open yet?”

Coulson looked at Clint like he wanted to say yes but instead shook his head and mentioned getting a couple hours of sleep on his couch before a meeting he had this morning. He grabbed his water bottle and headed towards the locker room. Clint sighed and went back up to his room to shower and change before joining the other new agents for breakfast and meeting with his tutor.


	6. Reprimands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A list of reprimands given to SHIELD's newest recruit.

Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division Reprimand Report for Clinton Francis Barton:

Handler: Susan Laughlin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Refused to stay hidden during fact finding mission  
Response: “This is fucked up. I’m getting written up because I was attacked by a rabid raccoon?”  
Further action requested: none at this time.  
Result: N/A

Handler: Susan Laughlin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Refused designated area for operation. Found new one without permission.  
Response: “Two many blind spots.”  
Further action requested: Agent is to request permission before moving on future missions.  
Result: Agent will at least inform his handler before moving.

Handler: Susan Laughlin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton refused to take out a target  
Response: “You're shitting me right? My file already says I don’t kill people in front of their kids!”  
Further action requested: If Barton cannot perform his duties, he should be relieved of his job.  
Result: Barton has been moved to a new handler.

Handler: George Jones  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton punched Jones during a normal debriefing  
Response: “I am not kneeling for that bastard!”  
Further action requested: Kick Barton out.  
Result: Mr. Jones has been relieved of his duties as a SHIELD agent.

Handler: Harold Jenkins  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton put green food dye in the shower heads  
Response: (Used bad Irish accent) “Top of the morning to ya! How are ya on this fine St. Patty's Day!”  
Further action requested: Keep Barton from pulling pranks.  
Result: Barton given ten lashes.

Handler: Harold Jenkins  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton refused to use new R&D tech  
Response: “That stuff could kill me!”  
Further action requested: Have the agent practice with them and learn their safety at the range.  
Result: Barton spent two weeks in medical. R&D department now must test their own weapons and be present the first time another agent uses them.

Handler: Melissa Hart  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton must learn that the coms are not for telling leud jokes.  
Response: “I’m so fucking bored. It's been, what, seventeen hours? Can’t I just shot this guy already?”  
Further action requested: Agent must learn how to do his job quietly.  
Result: Agent was told to keep silent over coms unless he had some actual information to relay and knock knock jokes do not hold any information. Neither do people walking into a bar.

Handler: Melissa Hart  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Agent used his bow instead of his rifle.  
Response: “The rifle would have made me a target. The bow is silent and allowed me time to escape.”  
Further action requested: The bow should not be a choice of his arsenal. It is archaic and useless.  
Result: Barton has been moved to a new handler.

Handler: Audrey McMeekin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton was told to seduce Mrs. Giovanni, not turn the entire building into an impromptu orgy.  
Response: “Hey, you got twice the information and I managed to put subdermal trackers on four, count them four, mob bosses.”  
Further action requested: Barton’s ego is getting too big. Can we take him down a peg?  
Result: Barton gets to train new recruits in the range and a commendation was secretly placed in his file.

Handler: Arms Master Joseph Stone  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Agent Barton was caught at a local public range taking bets and grifting the public of their money.  
Response: “If I actually got a salary I wouldn’t need to make money elsewhere.”  
Further action requested: What does he need money for? SHIELD supplies everything he needs.  
Result: Barton was given an allowance of $50 a month for niceties.

Handler: Audrey McMeekin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Agent refused a direct order from his superior. One that everyone knows he willingly does for others.  
Response: “Go ahead and whip me. I’m not sleeping with that crazy bitch!”  
Further action requested: Punish him for insubordination.  
Result: Agent McMeekin sent to a sexual harassment seminar and a reprimand has been placed in her folder. Agent Barton has been moved to a new handler.

Handler: William Martin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton used excessive ammo on a target.  
Response: “He killed a kid!”  
Further action requested: Limit his ammo in the field until he learns conservation.  
Result: Barton allowed as much ammo as he wants when facing child murderers.

Handler: William Martin  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton broke Martin’s foot.  
Response: “He was the one that got too intense during sparing. He shouldn’t have cracked my ribs. Not my fault he tried to kick me.”  
Further action requested: five lashes  
Result: No punishment at this time. Barton moved to a new handler.

Handler: Rachael Woldorf  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton sang “And another one bites the dust” during a shoot out that occurred during a dust storm. Not only was it inappropriate but he was off key.  
Response: “The song just fit. Did I seriously get written up for that?”  
Further action requested: No more singing.  
Result: No more singing.

Handler: Rachael Woldorf  
Agent: Clinton Barton  
Incident: Barton was found with contraband in his quarters. He fought with Officer Kuprinsky and Agent Woldorf putting both in medical.  
Response: “I’m not allowed to have incense? I’m already stopped hiding food and only keep six arrows in here. What else am I going to lose. No! You are not taking my bow! I made that one.”  
Further action requested: Suspend him, or better yet, sell him!  
Result: Agent Barton is on lockdown in his room until matter can be further investigated.

 

Coulson:

There seems to be a problem with your operative. You are the one that decided that he would make a positive addition to our team. I don’t care if he is better than any other marksman. He is still replaceable. Either get him under control or we sell him. As of right now, you are his new handler.

-Nick Fury  
Director (S.H.I.E.L.D.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that they got Barton's responses by either asking him outright or copying down the surveillance footage.
> 
> These reprimands are just a sample. I may add some later. He is 20 by the end of this chapter.


	7. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capture, torture and revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to the porn!
> 
> Warning for triggers
> 
> And I thought this story was only going to have five chapters. Silly me. Not sure how many we will have but we are over halfway through the plot in my head.

Clint came to with a headache. His entire skull felt like it was being used to set the beat for a death metal band. He tried to open his eyes but there was something covering them. Oh, crap. Hands and feet were bound as well. Judging from the cool breeze across his chest, he had been stripped down to his briefs. His best guess was that he was tied to a table and prepared for torture. He really really hoped he was wrong.

How did he get here? Okay. The last few days were spent getting ready for an op. Obviously it didn’t go well. The agent had no memory of how he was caught. This was his first mission with Coulson as his handler and he already managed to screw it up. Clint decided that he was alone. He saw his file. No need to sell him if he died. They probably had enough insurance on him to pay for any loss they incurred. Yep. This officially sucked.

“Ah, I see you are awake,” a male voice with a german accent said.

“Yeah, feeling all refreshed from a good nap.” Clint said back.

The other man snickered. “You want to tell me what you were doing in one of Hydra’s bases?”

“This is Hydra? I thought it was the local mall.”

The blow fell to his stomach. Something long and heavy. A 2x4. Wow, this was getting more cliched as time went by. Clint grunted as the air was shot from his lungs on impact. He took a few minutes to catch his breath.

“What is your name,” the german voice demanded.

“I’m Henry the Eighth I am,” sang Clint until he got another hit with the board.

“I can see that your clothes were assigned to you from SHIELD. I can also see that you are a slave. Or at least you were one judging from the scar that is circling your neck. I believe that they never freed you. There can’t be much love between you and an agency that treats you like property. Just cooperate and I can guarantee your freedom. You can choose to have an illustrious career with Hydra or go your own way. All it will cost you is some information.”

“Fuck off!” Clint replied.

“Ah, I see that Derrick here is going to have fun. I’ll leave you two alone until you decide to give me that information I need.”

Footsteps and the door closing told Clint that he was now alone with his torturer. He must have switched weapons because instead of a heavy blow, the archer started to feel needles being stuck under his fingernails. He gritted his teeth so that he wouldn’t scream out when two needles were placed into each nipple. After the needles, the man went to just punching Clint in the face, chest and stomach. When no information came forward, the torturer laughed, “You are a fun one. Let’s light this up” in German. 

Clint wasn’t supposed to know German. No one at SHIELD knew he could speak it. One of the good things about working under Duquesne was his insistence of learning other languages. He was far from fluent but he could get the jest of his words even if he couldn’t read any of them. Clint pretended to be confused at the words and didn’t show the fear that he suddenly felt. Sure enough, a jolt of electricity was sent down one of his legs. That was enough to make him scream out. The screaming just got worse as time continued. The shocks were placed on each leg, arm, and stomach. When the machine touched his already tender nipples the assassin actually bit his tongue. He wouldn’t betray SHIELD. He just wouldn’t.

During his torture, Clint managed to focus on one thing. Derrick had left the needles under his fingernails. While the man took a break from torturing to switch tools, Clint finished unlocking the cuff over his left wrist and took off the blindfold. When the torturer turned back, he felt three needles hit his neck. They were thrown hard enough that they pierced an artery. Two more needles went into each eye. He fell down screaming, trying to claw the sharp metal out of his body but that only made things worse.

It was just a matter of minutes before the other cuffs were released and Clint was able to finish the man by beating him to death. Now he could spend time pulling out the rest of the needles. He swore with relief as he pulled the ones out of his nipples. He took a few and wove them into his briefs in case they came in handy. The dead man's uniform was covered in blood so Clint chose not to borrow it and his shoes were too small to fit the assassin’s feet. Oh well. Clint took a lead pipe and the shocker before he carefully left the room.

The hallway was empty. Clint wasn’t sure where everyone went but it seemed that everyone had cleared the area. Well, almost everyone. A couple of rooms down Clint could hear the crack of a whip. He slowly opened the door to a room almost identical to the one he just left but instead of a table there was a hook in the ceiling. Agent Coulson had been stripped of all clothing and was currently hung high enough by his arms that his toes barely found purchase on the floor. He was facing a corner. His shoulders hadn’t popped out of their sockets yet but the experienced slave was thinking it was only a matter of time. A tall man wearing the gray uniform of the Hydra officers was whipping Coulson with unrestrained glee.

“Phillip J. Coulson, Agent for SHIELD, 0394-457-9807” was all that the handler was saying but he was repeating it over and over again like a mantra. Clint figured that was the only reason the other agent wasn’t screaming in pain.

The officer was so taken by the bleeding man in from of him that he completely missed the assassin coming up behind him. Clint quickly took hold of the mans head and broke his neck. He kicked the body out of his way and ran over to his handler. Coulson didn’t stop repeating his name, rank and serial number until Clint put his hands on him. Coulson froze for a second and then seemed to lean into the touch. He lifted his handler to get him down off the hook. 

“Wha?...” Coulson asked as his eyes focused on the agent who held him. “Barton?”

“Seemed you got the more competent torturer.” Clint joked before he noticed that Coulson was trying to move away from him. He was rolling to his side when the younger man saw why. The handler’s face went red when he realized that he was caught rock hard from the whipping. 

“I, uh... you get off on this?” Clint exclaimed. Coulson didn’t answer, just grew redder and continued to try to roll away from the other man. “No. None of that. I’ve seen worse kinks. Just never pictured you as a masochist.”

Coulson's pupils were blown. The younger agent had never seen anyone look more needy or enticing. Clint took a deep breath and continued, “Um, I can take care of that. If you will let me.” The thought of ‘please say yes’ yelled in his head.

“Don’t want to take advantage,” was all that Coulson could get out. 

“Not of me. This would be me taking advantage of you,” Clint said and he pulled the older man further into his arms without disrupting the scabbing welts down his back. When he accidentally bumped one, the older man moaned into the younger’s chest. Clint licked his hand. He leaned down and grabbed Coulson’s cock. His handler’s harsh intake of breath sent a chill down the younger man’s spine. Coulson was so excited that it only took about five pumps before he found his release. By then Clint was half hard but he was able to keep it down by thinking about how exposed they were. 

Clint got up and wiped his hands on the dead officers shirt. He then proceeded to strip the man of his clothes. He handed the shirt to Coulson to get cleaned up and then handed the pants to his handler. He gave him the socks and shoes as well. They were too big to fit the younger man anyways. The officer was wearing an undershirt that didn’t smell that great but was better than walking around mostly naked and showing off his tortured nipples.

After the two got dressed, Coulson grabbed a few weapons of his own including the officers gun and they snuck down the hallway. There were no guards on this floor but they did run into a few in the stairway. They were bad shots and Clint was able to take care of them quickly as his handler watched his back.

“Coulson,” began Clint.

“I think you can call my Phil at this point,” the older man laughed.

“Thanks,” Clint did not blush. He just didn’t. “Um, Phil. There were no windows. Do we go up or down?”

Coulson reads the sign on the side of the door they just left. “We go up. According to this, we are in a subbasement.”

“Of course you read German,” replied Clint. “I keep forgetting I’m with Agent Fucking Knows Everything Coulson.”

“I told you to call me Phil. At least until we get out of this building.” Was the only answer.

Phil waited for Clint to steal some pants and shoes. He took one of the shirts and they both started to climb the stairs. Two floors up was the ground level. Phil took a brief look through the window and informed Clint that there were only four armed men and a secretary in the lobby. 

The two decided that surprise was on their side so they burst through the door. Phil took out two of the men with his gun while Clint threw the pipe, knocking a man unconscious. The fourth guy got off a shot before Clint was on him with the taser but it only grazed the younger agent in the head. The secretary was hiding under her desk so the two agents left her alone and ran out of the building. They managed to get through the woods to a small town that held their safe house.

Once inside, Phil used the land line to call SHIELD and arrange a pick up. They were told that they had five hours before someone could get to their area. Clint searched the small building for bugs. Once their jobs were done, they settled into the kitchen to wait.

“I, uh...” Clint began.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” Phil said. 

“Yeah. No problem,” muttered Clint as he shifted uneasily.

Phil moved his chair slightly closer to his agent and placed his hands on the table. “We need to talk about that, don't we.” The older agent looked resigned. “You know I am not really a masochist. I mean, I like pain but only in certain situations.”

“And that was one of them,” Clint asked incredulously.

“Not really. It’s just been a really long time. I wasn’t excited until I ... Look. Do you know what it is like to be a rock? To have everyone look to you at even the slightest hint of trouble? I can never show emotion. I can never make a mistake. I am a robot with no feelings or needs. Can you imagine how SHIELD would fall apart if any of the top Agents show any sign of weakness? I’m not unique and I’m not irreplaceable but I do know that my job includes never showing anything but upmost calm at all times.”

Phil’s shoulders slouched. Clint didn’t know what to say so he chose that time to place one of his hands on Phil’s. The older man looked up and continued, “I was able to let go once. There was a man who taught me how to trust and just relax. He allowed me to submit. He allowed me to feel. He handled all of my needs, even a few I didn’t know about.”

Phil didn’t talk for a minute. Clint tried to give him time. He really did but the silence was driving him crazy. Finally he had to ask, “What happened?”

“He was killed about six years back. He was the handler and I was the backup. Things went to hell. I got a commendation for keeping my cool and turning the disaster into a complete elimination of a terrorist cell. I lost everything that day and I acted like the robot I needed to be.” Phil pulled his hands from under Clint’s and put them on his lap. “It’s been difficult.”

“Oh. You haven’t been able to find anyone else?”

“Yeah, I’ll just go to the local dom bar and put my complete trust in a strangers ability to ignore my scars. Tried it once. He thought that I was into more pain than I am. He tried to get me into subspace but I didn’t really trust him. He then tried to find out stuff about me to humiliate me but got pissed when he realized I didn’t have an online presence. He then tried to beat information out of me.” Phil took that moment to let out a snicker, “Luckily I am a better fighter than him. I did some research afterwards. He wasn’t a mole, just an ass. The thing is, I realized that I couldn’t allow myself to be put in that situation again. It’s just too dangerous.”

“So this guy was able to set you off today because...”

“He didn’t! You did. I wasn’t hard until I knew it was you putting your hands on me. Argh!” Phil looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. He was rubbing his hands up and down his legs. Clint got up and walked until he was behind his handler. He put his hands on Phil's shoulder and started to rub them.

“So I excite you or just make you feel safe?” the younger man asked.

“Does it have to be just one of those?” Phil responded while leaning into Clint's hands.

“You know, I have never been on the giving end of something like this but if you trust me, I would like to try.”

“No,” answered Phil. “I am your handler. I cannot take advantage of you. I cannot compromise the best marksman in SHIELD. You do not have to do those things for us. SHIELD does not ask for sexual favors outside of a mission.”

“Shhhh,” Clint breathed into Phils ear making him shudder. “It is not taking advantage of me when I want it. I know that you didn’t buy me to be a sex slave. Doesn’t mean that I want to be chaste either. Look at me.”

Phil looked up into the other man's eyes. His anxiety and fear clear on his face. Clint felt his heart leap a little at the broken man in front of him. “Do you trust me?”

Phil actually thought about it for a moment before he whispered, “Yes.”

Clint placed his hands around Phils neck causing the other man to close his eyes and exhale heavily. “We can try this. When we get back, we can talk about boundaries. Right now, can I just kiss you?”

Phil responded by opening his eyes and pulling Clint down for a kiss. It started as a simple touching of the lips but it didn’t take long for the men to begin licking each others lips and exploring their mouths. Clint moved around and sat on Phils lap. He rolled his hips into the older man as he placed his hands behind his head and kept him close. The moans each man gave out just furthered their need to feel, touch and taste. 

Clint pulled back long enough for each man to lose their shirts. They continued to kiss and they ran their hands down each others chests. Phil reached around and pulled the archer in closer. Clint wanted to return the favor but was afraid of upsetting the wounds on the other man’s back so he let his hands dip lower instead. Phil jumped a bit when he fingers went below the belt line. He stood up, still holding onto Clint and putting him down on the table. They undid each others belt and let their pants and underwear fall to their ankles. Clint put his hands around both of their cocks and Phil braced himself above the archer and started to rock back and forth.

Neither man was capable of saying a word. They were still exploring their mouths, necks and ears with their tongues. Clint let out a small scream as he shot the warm white liquid over their stomachs. The world went white as Phil took that moment to bite hard into Clint's shoulder and jerk through his own orgasm. When they were finished, they were both sweaty and sticky with come but neither cared. They simply continued into the small shower to clean up before their ride came. If it took a little longer to shower than normal, well neither man minded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am new at this whole writing thing so if I change writing styles too much or have a typo please let me know. I don't have a beta reader to help me.


	8. Their first scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BDSM plain and simple

Clint was excited. After weeks of talking and planning he finally got the go ahead for his first scene. He spent his afternoon at Phil’s apartment cleaning it and making it perfect. He had taken over the spare bedroom and had forbidden his lover from entering it on pain of disappointed puppy eyes. The bed had been stripped of nothing but a clean white sheet. He had installed hooks in the ceiling and had built a few pieces of furniture. All but one was hidden under a blanket.

Phil had promised to come home early and Clint was not disappointed when the older man entered the apartment at 7. As per their script, he walked into the room enough to close and lock the door before undressing. There was a hanger already in place for his clothes. The older man then walked into the dining room and kneeled down on a pillow that had been placed by Clint's chair. He placed his hands on his knees and relaxed.

Clint had dinner waiting. He took his time cutting the steak, green beans and potato. He slowly fed himself and the man kneeling next to him. Occasionally Clint would offer some of his wine to Phil but no words were actually used. After everyone had eaten, Clint took his napkin and cleaned Phil’s face before leaning down into a long kiss. Phil’s hands twitched to touch him but he kept his hands where they were.

“Follow,” was all that Clint said before he walked down the hall. Phil followed, crawling along the carpeted floor. Clint stopped him before they entered the room. He pulled out a sleeping mask and placed it over Phil’s eyes. A small shudder ran through the older man as his sight was taken away. Clint leaned down and whispered in Phil’s ear, “safeword?”

Phil said, “coffee.” His voice a little rougher than he expected it to be.

Clint opened the door behind him and grabbed Phil's hair. He pulled enough to get the blinded man moving and led him to one of his wooden contraptions. He guided Phil up until his knees were on a padded bench and his shoulders were bent before a higher piece of padded wood. After Phil's head and hands were placed in the groves, he put the top piece of the pillory over Phil’s head and pinned his wrists and neck in place. Phil’s breathing started to quicken but the look on his face was not of fear but anticipation. The upper piece of wood was held in place by a simple loop of rope on each end that could quickly be removed. 

Clint took a moment and started to scratch his sub’s back. He had let his nails grow out a little bit just for this. Phil arched into some of the movement as Clint pressed just enough to mark without cutting the skin. After a few minutes, he walked around to the front and leaned down so that he could kiss his lover. The kiss was rough and demanding. Their lips ran over each other and Clint pushed in and used his hands to pull on Phil’s hair some more. He ate a groan from his sub as Phil’s hands tried to free themselves but failed. 

“Ready for the next part?” Clint asked as he broke off from the kiss.

Phil nodded and then opened and closed his fists twice as the signal to continue. Clint walked over to a set of drawers. The top one had a variety of whips and paddles. He picked up the simplest whip from Phil’s collection and turned to face the other man. He held up the whip. His arm froze. He had been practicing and knew that he had managed perfect control. He could hit any leaf on the tree in the park he aimed at. His arm started to shake. 

_Clint was tied to a tree on the edge of the circus. He had been stripped of his clothes showing his small fourteen year old frame. The whip came down across his back. He bit into the branch that had been placed in his mouth but that didn’t stop the scream from escaping. “One” he heard behind him. Only nineteen more to go. He would practice harder. He wouldn’t miss in front of the crowd next time._

A thud was heard as Clint realized that he had dropped the whip. The master of the night shook his head. He took a minute to steady his nerves. Phil stayed still but tensed a bit as the time continued. Clint reached back into the drawer and pulled out a paddle. He walked over to the form in front of him and said, “On second thought, we are going to change it up a bit.” 

The paddle smacked the kneeling man on the right ass cheek. “How many of these do you think you can handle?” The sound was even louder when Clint put some muscle into hitting the left cheek. He waited a moment and did the right cheek again. Over and over the younger man paddled his lover. Phil yelped a few times but then started to squirm as his buttocks turned red with the abuse. Clint watched his lover’s cock hardened and he reached down with his free hand and gave it a light tug. “Enjoying this?”

Phil was not given permission to talk so he just nodded and gave a small whine when Clint’s hand left. Clint tossed the paddle into the drawer on the other side of the room and rubbed his palms across his sore lovers ass. “You like this, don’t you. You want me to just fuck you right here. Ram myself into your sore ass for hours? Maybe I’ll even take you dry. See if you can handle it.”

Phil moaned at his lover's words and started leaking precome from his swollen cock. Clint walked back over to the dresser and took out a bottle of lube that he had placed there earlier. He went back and placed his now slick fingers in between his lovers ass cheeks and started to circled his hole. Slowly he allowed one finger to enter. After a few minutes of teasing Phil, he switched to two fingers and eventually three. When Phil was shaking and moaning with just his hand, the younger man just stopped and walked away causing Phil to whimper. Clint pulled a dildo out of the second set of drawers and lubed it up. He returned to his lover and slowly pressed the dildo into him. When it was seated just right, Clint pressed a button on the base and it started to vibrate. Phil screamed out as the feeling started to overtake him. Clint moved it back and forth until he found his lover’s sweet spot and pressed it into his prostrate. Phil stopped breathing for a second as his cock started pouring come onto the towel that Clint had thought to place in front of him earlier. He shook and moaned through his orgasm. His body went limp in the pillory after Clint had messaged everything he could get out of his sub with the dildo. He left the toy inside of Phil but turned it off before he moved over to his head. 

“Don’t fall asleep now. You aren’t done yet.” Clint purred into Phil’s ear. Clint took the top stock off of the pillory and let Phil fall back into him. He half carried his lover over to the bed and told him to lay down with his ass in the air. When Phil was situated to his liking, Clint removed the toy and lined himself up. With one quick thrust he pushed in until his body was completely flush with Phil’s. Phil’s cock twitched at the sensation and he moaned as Clint started to fuck him. It was not the gentle love that the men practiced in Phil’s bed. No, this was hard and demanding. Clint grabbed his lover’s hips hard enough to bruise and slammed into him again and again. 

“Is this what you need? Someone to use that tight little hole of yours? Someone to treat you like the little slut you want to be? Fuck, Phil. This is all you are good for outside of work, aren’t you. You are just a little cock slut waiting for me to fill you. I wonder if you would even care if I asked someone else to join us. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Someone to be ramming into your ass while I fuck your face? Would you be able to swallow everything down while your tight little hole was being ripped open?”

Phil’s cock started to get hard again with Clint’s words. He moaned and writhed under his lover’s pounding. Trying to push back at the same pace but unable to keep up. Clint leaned down and bit the back of Phil's neck hard as he came, causing Phil to come a second time. Both men pushed into each other as their orgasms rocked their bodies. Finally, they were both sated enough that they collapsed on the bed. Clint pulled the mask off of Phil’s eyes and looked at his lover.

“Good?” he asked a little uncertain.

“Hmm, perfect,” Phil responded. He snuggled closer to Clint and sighed. “What happened to the plan though?”

“Um,” Clint tensed a bit, nervously. “I can’t do the whips. I’m sorry.”

“Shh. No. Nothing to be sorry about. The paddle was fine or I would have used our safe word. The stocks were a nice touch too. Absolutely perfect.”

“Thanks,” said Clint before he leaned in and kissed his lover. “Now I think it is time for a shower and bed.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of this as a 21st birthday present for Clint.


	9. punishment and purchase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil cannot see Clint get punished that badly again. He will do whatever it takes to help his lover in the future.

Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division Reprimand Report for Clinton Francis Barton Filed by the World Security Council

Handler: Philip J. Coulson  
Asset: Clinton F. Barton  
Filed by: WSC  
Incident: Failed to take out a target, Gave a dangerous assassin access to a secure safehouse rendering it useless for future missions, Allowed said assassin to enter SHIELD facilities.  
Response: “What is wrong with recruiting?”  
Further action requested: We cannot allow our assets to think that they can make decisions that might endanger real agents.  
Result: 20 lashes with a barbed whip

 

“Phil, I tried,” Nick looked at his friend with a sad look. “I talked them down from 30 but he is still owned by SHIELD and is still under the authority of the WSC. There is nothing I can do.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. He still neutralized the Black Widow by bringing her here.” Phil ran his hands through his hair. He had tried for days to get Clint’s punishment removed. The assassin he had brought in was being cooperative. If this panned out correctly, Natasha Romanov could become one of SHIELD’s best new agents. Coulson was spending a lot of time on paperwork making sure that if she did join, it was as a free woman and not as a slave. Clint deserved at least that much for what he was about to experience.

XXX

There was a knock on Clint’s door before it opened. He looked up from the floor of his cell to see his handler enter the room. “It’s that time,” was all that Phil would say as he looked into the younger man’s eyes. 

“Yeah. Let’s get this over with.” Clint stood up and stretched. He was only given a pair of shorts to wear in his cell. He was allowed to walk without handcuffs while his handler was next to him. Clint swore at the cold metal floor of the punishment room. He hurried over to the post and wrapped his arms into the loops that would keep him upright. He opened his mouth towards Phil and was given a mouth guard to bite onto during the ordeal. Phil stood to the side within his line of vision as another agent stood a few feet behind the bound man. 

“For refusing the follow direct orders from the World Security Council, for possibly endangering the organization that holds your papers, for allowing a dangerous assassin to live, you are hereby going to be punished with twenty lashes of the barbed whip. If you pass out at any time, you will be woken before the punishment can continue. If you try to escape your punishment, the number will be doubled. Your handler is to do the count. If he miscounts or loses count he will share in the punishment. Do you both understand.” The agent with the whip announced.

Phil said yes while Clint nodded his head.

The whip came down hard onto Clint's back. The barb broke the skin open immediately. “One,” Phil said in an emotionless tone. He forced himself to look into Clint’s eyes and count with as little of the grief he was feeling as possible. Clint grunted for the first few hits but by the time Phil had counted up to nine he was screaming. His back, buttocks and legs were bleeding. The whip was digging into his skin enough to scar. At sixteen, the punishing agent had to pause long enough for Phil to use smelling salts and awaken the slave. Clint endured the last four hits with next to no noise. His entire body was on fire. 

The medical team immediately pulled Clint down from the post and placed him on his stomach on the gurney. They wheeled him down to medical to get cleaned up and stitched. Even with the abrupt help, he was going to have new scars. Phil cursed under his breath and decided that he was going to save his lover from ever undergoing such punishment again.

XXX

“Director,” Phil said to Fury. His friend looked up at him questioningly. The two were alone in his office and Phil hadn’t called him by his title in years.

“Yes, agent?” Fury responded in kind.

“I would like to permanently acquire a piece of SHIELD’s property.” Coulson said putting the necessary paperwork down in front of the director. He took a moment to look over it before looking back at the agent.

“You really sure about this? This isn’t like getting a dog. If Barton fucks up, it will be your ass on the line instead of his next time.”

Phil nods, “I’m sure. I’ve though about this long and hard. If SHIELD would keep him employed, than my bank agreed to loan me the money to make up the difference from my savings so that I can buy him.”

“Phil,” Nick says to his friend, putting down the paperwork. “Please rethink this. Barton is a highly trained operative. He is worth more than most houses around here. Are you sure that you want to be in debt for the rest of life over him? Does he even know what you are offering.”

“I didn’t ask him,” came Phil’s reply. He kept his poker face on but Nick knew enough about his friend to tell he was nervous. “It was going to be a surprise. And I have a buyer for some stuff I've been collecting so it won't be as bad as you think.”

“Okay,” Director Fury said. “I’ll pass this along to the guys in accounting and they can give you the proper price. Then it will simply be a matter for legal and you should have your own slave by the end of the month.”

“Thank you,” was all that Agent Coulson said before he left the office.

XXXX

Clint took a few days in medical before he was healed enough to walk around without winching in pain. He still grumbled about SHIELD making him unfit for duty for the rest of the month but he was glad that the time off gave him reason to spend time with Phil. When he got to Phil’s apartment he was a bit startled about how bare it looked. The vintage Captain America posters were no longer on the wall and the comic book collection was missing from the shelves. Clint ran over to the safe were Phil kept his prized possession. All of the original Captain America trading cards were gone. 

“Phil!” Clint screamed at his handler over the phone. “I think you've been robbed.

“No. Calm down,” Phil responded. Clint could hear the smile in his voice. “I just found a buyer is all.”

“A buyer?” Clint could not believe that Phil would ever sell his collection. He honestly thought the man would die before he let a singe knick knack of Captain America out of his sight. 

“Yeah. I’m getting too old to be obsessed with someone who probably died almost seventy years ago. I thought it was time to move on.” Clint could hear the lie in Phil’s voice. No one else seemed to notice it but Phil tended to speak a little slower when he wasn’t telling the truth. 

“Phil. Tell me what is really happening. Are you being black mailed?”

“No! No. It’s just... Look, I am almost done here. I’ll finish up early and we can talk over dinner. Sound good?” Phil sounded tired now. Clint wanted to rush back to headquarters and give him a hug but settled with agreeing to talk over dinner.

XXX

Dinner was simple. Spaghetti with meatballs. The men talked about their day and the weather for a few minutes before Phil sighed and took a piece of paper out of his briefcase. He handed it to Clint and sat back down. He stared into his water glass as the younger man read the page.

“This is a bill,” said Clint.

“Yes.”

“For a slave,” Clint said questioningly.

“Yes.”

“For me?” Clint finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t see that again. I cannot see you beaten because you did what you thought was right. No other agent would have been punished for what you did. Heck, I would put money that they would have been commended for turning the Great Black Widow to our side. It was only your slave status that pissed off the council. If I owned you, you wouldn’t be there asset. You would have total agent status and no one could treat you like a slave there again. Only I would have the right to order you about and we both know that I only do that as far as the job demands. Are you upset?”

“What?! No. I’m not upset. I just can’t imagine someone like you wanted to lose everything he has for someone like me.” Clint shakes his head at his lover.

“You are worth more than any card or comic book I could possibly buy.” Phil moved around the table and crouched down next to Clint. “I wanted to propose but slaves can't marry so I am doing the next best thing.”

Clint took a few breathes and then looked into Phil’s eyes. “Would you free me?”

Phil looked pained for a moment. He shut his eyes and looked away. “I looked into that. You are on the permanent slave registry for those hits you took while in the circus. Someone at SHIELD must have filed that when we first acquired you. I knew nothing about it until yesterday. I am so sorry.”

“Don't be,” Clint cupped Phil’s chin and moved his face back so that the two of them could look each other in the eyes again. “I want to be yours. I truly do but even I cannot ask you to spend this much money. We can stay like we are. I will never leave you and you can still have all your stuff. Is that so hard?”

“Yes.” Phil said firmly, standing up. “I already told you. I will not see you hurt like that again. I will not be a part of it. If you don’t want me to purchase you, then let me know so that I can quit my job.”

“Now you are talking crazy,” Clint responded, standing up next to the man. “I want you to have me, it's just... A million dollars Phil! They want over a million dollars for me. Don’t tell me that was what they paid to get me from the circus. I bet it wasn’t even half that.”

Phil looked at the younger man. “It was $717,000. After more training and inflation, you are now worth $1,233,616 on the open market. If you don’t believe me, go online sometime and do some research. I am not being taken, Clint. That is what you are worth.”

“Holy Fuck!” was all the slave could say as the number sank into his head. “How the hell you going to get that money?”

Phil shrugged. “I had a lot in savings, I made a pretty penny on selling my collections and the bank is willing to loan me the rest. It really isn’t as bad as as it could be. At least this way I know that I am getting a good return on my investment. Better than an engagement ring, actually.”

Clint honestly didn’t know what to say. He looked at the man who was willing to give up everything for a slave. He was willing to give up his future for someone who will never be able to pay him back. Clint was so speechless that he did the only thing he could think of, he leaned in and kissed Phil. It was light and loving and it lasted for a while. They joked later that the kiss must have tasted better because their food was cold by the time they got back to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering, I put Clint at about 24 and Phil at 36 in this story. It has been a bit over five years since SHIELD bought Clint and three since Phil became Clint's permanent handler/lover. 
> 
> Fury knows about their relationship, he just doesn't care.
> 
> I wanted to finish this with a tender love scene but I am pretty sure a good whipping takes more than a few days to heal and since we all know that Clint won't take his pain pills, then he probably doesn't have much libido right now. Give him a week.


	10. Comfortable ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick snuggle.

Phil had put in another long day. The eleven o’clock news was on the tv when he entered the apartment. He placed his briefcase on the floor and walked over to the couch. He fell into the cushions and leaned right into Clint. 

“Bad night at the office?” Clint asked.

“You could say that. Still doing the paperwork from Stark's little announcement yesterday. You’d think he was the only one with powers in this world.”

“You want me to tie him up for you without his suit?” Clint joked.

“If you do that, make sure my taser is fully charged.” Phil laughed back.

Clint looked down at his lover’s face. Phil looked more relaxed and happy than the agent has ever remembered seeing him. He started to stroke the older man’s hair as his breathing got shallower. Phil fell asleep listening to the heartbeat in Clint's chest. Clint looked up at the ceiling towards whatever diety was listening to him at the time and mouthed, “Thank you” before closing his own eyes and drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick paragraph to wrap up this story so that I can get to the other characters that are jumping for attention in my head.


End file.
